


Duet with Brief Interlude for Trio

by j_s_cavalcante



Category: due South
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Threesome Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_s_cavalcante/pseuds/j_s_cavalcante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is for sharing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duet with Brief Interlude for Trio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sage (sageness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/gifts).



Christmas Eve. It was dark early—for Chicago. It had been dark all day in the North. They'd said goodbye to the sun over a fortnight ago in Inuvik; they wouldn't see it again until a week into January.

Not that that mattered, because Fraser had all he wanted right here.

He had Ray, and he had his other Chicago friends, and the city didn't threaten his sanity any more, at least not the way it had the first year he'd been assigned here. He was no longer the young Mountie who couldn't handle a posting in Moose Jaw. He managed now. It might even be said that he thrived.

And it was Christmas, and he and Ray were together; that was a long winter's night of a story in itself. The abridged version was that on the very first night of their adventure together in the North, Fraser had bundled Ray into their shared sleeping bag, climbed in next to him, and discovered shortly thereafter that Ray had some ideas of his own about how to keep warm in an Arctic environment. Fraser, who had loved Ray since the moment he'd jumped in front of Greta Garbo's bullet, had responded. Enthusiastically. They'd been partners, in every sense, ever since.

So Chicago was a fine place to be, despite the winter sun, because Fraser's heart was full, probably for the first time since he was an infant at the breast. Since before he knew anything about heartache, betrayal, or loss—or the depths to which even a well-intentioned soul could sink if he were not careful. He'd made the tour of those dark places, and all things being equal, he'd rather not have done so, but he was past all that, out in the light now.

He couldn't allow his thoughts to dwell in those dark places any more. It wasn't productive, and it made Ray worry, and in the twenty months they'd known each other, Fraser had already caused Ray a lifetime's worth of worry. It was going to take Fraser the rest of his life to make up for that alone.

He considered it his duty, joyous though it might be, to make Ray happy if he possibly could.

Ray had driven to the suburbs to pick up their little Christmas tree, and he'd taken Dief with him to romp in the snowy lot where the trees were for sale—the best lot, Ray said, the best trees, worth the drive and the extra time—and Diefenbaker agreed, though Fraser suspected the big snowy lot had more to do with Diefenbaker's unusual amity than the specific varieties of evergreen available.

Fraser had stayed behind to cook, but he didn't mind. They would go to the park tomorrow, and there had been a recent snowfall, which was still lovely and clean along many of the walking paths. They might even rent an SUV and drive out to the country. Ray had several days off, and Fraser had so much leave time accumulated he could take a sabbatical year if he wished, so he'd had no trouble arranging his time off to coincide with Ray's.

He hummed a little as he checked the roast in the oven—it was coming along nicely—and he found a dishcloth and wiped down the counters and the breakfast bar for good measure, although they were pretty clean already. Ray might toss his clothes on the floor, or, goodness knew, over the lampshades, and he didn't seem to know what a dust-mop was for, but he was fairly neat in the kitchen, even if it sometimes took him a full day to get the pots washed after he cooked.

A clatter outside the apartment door attracted his attention. It wasn't Ray. Fraser knew that at once because of what he didn't hear: the heavy stomp of Ray's boots, Diefenbaker's excited whuffling, the scratch of evergreen needles against the wooden door.

What he did hear was much subtler. There it was again, a little shuffle, shuffle, thump from outside the door, and then a somewhat tentative knock.

Taking off his apron, Fraser went to open the door.

"Benny!" Ray Vecchio stood there looking surprised, but pleased.

"Ray!"

Ray smiled and came forward for a hug. "Good to see you, Benny."

Fraser hugged him hard, patted him heartily on the back, and then pulled back to take a look at him. Ray looked good: tanned, slimmer than when Fraser had seen him last, with was left of his hair cropped stylishly close. His large olive-green eyes were as warm as ever.

"It's wonderful to see you, Ray. I hadn't heard you were coming up for the holidays."

Ray shrugged slightly, the kind of shrug that said there was a longish explanation in the offing. "You gonna ask me in, or did Kowalski tell you not to?"

"What?" Fraser blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "No, of course he didn't. Where would you get such an—well, never mind. Come in, Ray. Merry Christmas."

Ray smiled his long, deep-curved smile. "That's more like it. Merry Christmas, Benny." He leaned down, plucked a satchel off the floor next to him, and came inside, setting the satchel down by the door. "So where's Kowalski at?"

Fraser reached around to shut the door behind Ray. "He's out picking up a Christmas tree. Diefenbaker's with him."

Ray sniffed the air appreciatively. "And you're cooking. Smells good."

"Thank you." Fraser paused, at a momentary loss. "Did you—ah, did you need Ray for something? Is Stella all right?"

"No, no, she's fine. Actually, I was looking for you, Benny. I figured he might know where you were. Looks like I was right."

Fraser cleared his throat uncomfortably. He'd been in sporadic communication with Ray Vecchio, and Ray Kowalski had been in touch with Stella now and then, but they'd agreed not to bring up the subject of their augmented relationship with anyone yet. They didn't lie, they just didn't volunteer details that Ray referred to as "TMIF—Too Much Information, Fraser." They were partners; they had always been partners. They loved each other; they had always loved each other.

The essential truth hadn't changed, even though they expressed it a bit differently now.

Ray Vecchio didn't seem to notice Fraser's discomfort. He was glancing around the room. "Kind of cozy. Nice. Be great when Kowalski gets the tree in here, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well, good. I'm glad you're not spending Christmas alone, Benny. I stopped by the Consulate, you know. It was dressed up all pretty for Christmas, but it was empty as a church on Monday morning. Welsh said as far as he knew you still called your office home, though."

Fraser didn't quite know what to say. The Consulate was still his address of record, despite the fact that for all practical purposes he lived here with Ray. It was easier to get his mail there, and since the 2-7 seemed to operate on the "don't ask, don't tell" system with regard to unorthodox lifestyle preferences among police officers, it also posed fewer problems for Ray.

Fraser did still sleep in the Consulate once in a while, but that wasn't a subject he should explore with Ray Vecchio, seeing as Ray Kowalski usually slept there with him. Well, not so much _slept_ as made love with him there. They'd done so in every room of the Royal Suite and were working through the remaining rooms one by one. Ray had even taken him over Inspector Thatcher's desk, but since she'd already left for her CSIS training and the new inspector hadn't yet arrived, the thrill hadn't been quite as piquant as they'd hoped.

So, really, there was nothing much to say unless Fraser was prepared to share the full truth, and for that he needed Ray's permission. Distinctly at a loss, he shrugged and changed the subject. "Well, then. Thank you for coming to see me, Ray. Let me take your coat. Would you like to sit down?"

Ray shrugged out of his long wool coat, revealing—unsurprisingly—a well-tailored dark suit underneath. Fraser hung the coat in the closet, and by the time he turned around, Ray had settled himself in an easy chair. Fraser chose the couch.

"I take it you just arrived," Fraser said. "Have you seen your family yet?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah. They're good. It's the usual crazy holiday stuff over at the house. The kids are running around like maniacs, Tony's helping Ma with the cooking, Maria and Frannie are fighting like cats even though Frannie's expecting again."

Fraser smiled. He knew, of course. He and Ray stayed in touch with the Vecchio family fairly regularly, and Francesca's second pregnancy within a single year was certainly notable, especially since she claimed the babies had been conceived by divine intervention rather than that of a human male.

"They're going to midnight Mass tonight, but I—I'm not going." There was an odd look on his face that Fraser couldn't quite identify. It reminded him a little of the way Ray had looked after Irene had died.

Perhaps he was thinking of her.

A polite change of subject was probably in order. "And how is Stella?"

"Stella, she's fine. She's in Vail with...she's got cousins out there and, well..." Ray shrugged, and didn't meet Fraser's eyes.

"I hear it's beautiful there." Fraser didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah, to look at on a postcard, Benny, not to sit in the ski lodge with Stella's stuck-up cousins, believe me."

The thud-thud of a well-worn pair of motorcycle boots sounded in the hallway at that moment. Then came excited lupine whuffling, and finally, the sound of evergreen boughs scratching woodwork. "That would be Ray and Diefenbaker," Fraser said, and got up to help them bring in the tree.

The door banged open before Fraser quite reached it. Dief bounded in with Ray on his heels, a whirlwind of energy as usual. The intoxicating scent of balsam wafted from the hallway, where Ray had propped the tree.

"Hey, Ben. Miss me?" Ray said, poking his glasses higher on his nose with one long forefinger. He grinned his sunny grin, and Fraser felt his heartbeat kick up a notch. He drew breath to tell Ray about their visitor, but before he could utter a single word, Ray hauled him in with one arm and planted a big wet kiss on his mouth.

Fraser felt his knees unlock. He returned the kiss for a second—he would never push Ray away, not for anyone—and then cupped his hand under Ray's softly stubbled chin and gently disengaged. "Ray, we have—"

Behind Fraser, Ray Vecchio cleared his throat rather loudly. Fraser felt a blush climb his face. "—a visitor," he finished.

Ray looked up, surprised, but apparently not unduly disconcerted. "Vecchio! Hey, they didn't tell us you were coming up. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Ray Vecchio said, coming up behind Fraser. "It was a last-minute thing; sorry." He cleared his throat again, more softly, and turned to Fraser. "Something you forgot to tell me, Benny?"

Fraser turned and met his gaze. Ray Vecchio's was steady, amused. But he didn't seem angry.

Or even very surprised.

"Er, well, no, Ray, I didn't exactly _forget."_ He was stalling. He knew it and they knew it. He glanced back at Ray Kowalski. A little grin had stolen over Ray's face, and he was pushing his tongue into his cheek in an apparent effort to hold back a comment.

"I...we haven't told anyone," Fraser said, turning back to Ray Vecchio. "I'd hoped to be able to tell you tonight, but I felt I needed Ray's permission first. I hope you understand."

"Sure, Benny," Ray Vecchio said. "That's very honorable of you."

"Ah...thank you."

Ray Vecchio was nodding thoughtfully. "I thought it seemed pretty cozy and domestic, you in here cooking while he was out. You're not really living at the Consulate, are you?"

"Well, no," Fraser said. "But I do still work there."

"And get your mail there."

"Yes."

"Welsh know where to find you, if he really needs to?"

Fraser swallowed. "He knows to call Ray's phone, yes." He sighed. "I don't think he lied to you. Technically."

Ray sighed too. "Yeah, I think maybe he said it a certain way I was supposed to pick up on and I missed it."

"I'm sorry," Fraser said. It seemed painfully inadequate, but it was the best he could do. The world, as Ray often said, was not all black and white.

"Don't be," Ray said. "I know you got to be careful. I've seen what some idiots can do to guys who are...you know. Different."

"Queer," Ray said, his tone challenging. "Why don't you just tell it like it is?"

Ray Vecchio shrugged, ignoring the bait. "Because I haven't been told what it is. I figure it's up to you to say. You both had...things with women. You tell me."

Ray fixed him with his penetrating stare for a long moment. Then he let out an amused snort. "Queer's queer," he said. "'Different,' that word's probably just as good. 'Cause if I tell people I'm not gay, they don't get that. They're straight, they think I'm in denial; they're gay, they think I'm a self-hating fag. They're something in between like me, I probably don't got to tell them anything, you know?"

"Rock and a hard place," Ray Vecchio said, shrugging.

He looked over at Fraser, who shook his head. "I don't find labels particularly useful for people."

Ray smiled. "Same old Benny." He stepped forward then and offered Ray his hand. "You don't have to challenge me, Stanley. I'm not here to take your man away from you."

"Not that you could. And don't call me Stanley." But he shook the offered hand.

"It's a deal," Ray Vecchio said. "Listen, all jokes aside, be good to Benny."

"I try," Ray said with a shrug.

Ray Vecchio nodded. "I know. I saw it, even that first day, when Benny blew my cover. I could see he was it for you."

Fraser took a step back. Had Ray's feelings had been so obvious even then—and to someone who didn't even know him?

"Hey," Ray Vecchio said, "you look knocked for a loop."

"I...I knew I loved Ray from the beginning," Fraser said slowly. "I didn't realize he felt that way about me until much later."

"The Mountie was slow on the uptake for once, huh?" Ray Vecchio directed his comment to Ray, who chuckled.

"About some things," Ray said with a wink at Fraser.

Oh dear. They were colluding to tease him.

"So what gave up the game?" Ray Vecchio asked.

Ray laughed harder. "That, Vecchio, is a story for when I'm a lot drunker than now...which is not at all. And which, not that I get drunk, because I pretty much don't, but...this story requires an eggnog or two, you get my drift."

"Sounds like a long one," Ray Vecchio said.

"Oh, there's definitely a long one involved," Ray said, and the mischief was back in his eyes. "Maybe two."

Ray Vecchio groaned. "I can't believe I walked into that."

"Believe it. But I'll try to go light on the gory details."

"I'll be looking forward to it, then," Ray Vecchio said, with the downward inflection in his voice that suggested the end of that conversation, and perhaps the end of his visit.

Ray, however, apparently didn't accept that at face value. He peered at Ray Vecchio over the rim of his glasses. "So, what, you running off? Ma expecting you?"

Ray Vecchio shuffled his feet in his fine Italian shoes. "Well, I...no, see, they're going nuts over there as usual, and I'm not used to the commotion any more, so after I had it up to here, I went looking for Benny. The family's going to midnight Mass later. It starts at eleven and lets out at midnight, and then the family goes home and eats a bunch of fish, and..."

"Yeah, I know," Ray said. "Did that when I was you. I could take or leave the fish that had the head still on, but I liked the calamari."

"Ma's is great, isn't it?"

"The best. So you staying for a while? Or do you have to go do the family thing?"

"Well, I...I kind of...I don't know what I was going to tell Ma, but, see...I don't go to Mass any more," Ray Vecchio said. "Not since...well, undercover can be..."

It was only then that Fraser identified the slightly haunted look in Ray Vecchio's eyes. It hadn't been Irene, after all, although she was quite possibly the reason Ray Vecchio had agreed to the undercover assignment.

"Complicated," Ray said, as though finishing Ray Vecchio's thought. He dropped a casual hand on Ray Vecchio's shoulder. "Yeah. Done it enough times to know."

"I can't go to confession," Ray Vecchio said, his voice hinting at matters too dark for discussion on Christmas Eve. "You get me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Ray said.

"Ray," Fraser said. "Ray." Including them both. He wanted to reach out and pull them in, the way he had when they met. He kept his hands at his sides.

Ray sighed and ran a hand through the spikes of his hair. "You want a friendly ear on that subject, Vecchio, you got one, only not on Christmas. Fraser's only had one decent Christmas that he remembers, and that was last year. So we're not wrecking this one with work stuff. Got that?"

Ray Vecchio swallowed. "I hear you. Sorry, Kowalski."

"Good." Ray nodded once, and Fraser knew the matter was forgiven and forgotten, just like that. "Time to do Christmas. Since you're not doing Mass and the fish thing, you're hanging with us, Vecchio."

Ray Vecchio looked slightly astonished. "Don't you guys want to, you know, be alone...together?"

"It's Christmas, not our anniversary. You're family. You think I'm going to kick Ben's old partner out in the snow to deal with the fish heads and the confessionals he can't go in, and Ma worrying about everything? Nah. God bless us, every one, and all that."

"Wow," Ray Vecchio said after a stunned moment. "Benny?"

"I couldn't have said it better," Fraser said, knowing his pride in his lover showed on his face. Ray gave him a jaunty little smile and a shake of his head, and then clapped Vecchio on the shoulder, a little too hard.

"So since you're family," Ray said, "how about you hang that fancy jacket over a chair and come help me haul in the tree?"

"Depends," Ray Vecchio said. "You gonna tell me that long story?"

"That, my friend, requires eggnog. I was not kidding about that."

"You pouring?" Ray Vecchio said.

"You staying?" Ray said in the same tone of voice.

"I'll have to call Ma."

"Yeah. But when you tell her you're with us, she'll let you off the hook. Benton Fraser, RCMP, can do no wrong as far as she's concerned."

"Don't I know it." Ray Vecchio smiled, seemingly to himself. "Okay, then. For a little while, at least."

"Eggnog," Ray said, pointing at him with his forefinger and little finger extended. "Tree trimming. Dinner. Catching up. And whatever. You get sleepy, that couch folds out. No big deal."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Feeling slightly bewildered, Fraser went back into the kitchen. He'd wanted them to get along; he'd thought at first they weren't going to. They'd worked well together on the Muldoon case, but only for a couple of days; they hadn't really had a chance to get to know each other. And then, while Fraser and Ray were in Canada on their quest, Ray Vecchio had done what would once have been unforgivable: he'd whisked Stella away from Chicago in a whirlwind romance—and hadn't married her.

Now, mere months later, Ray and Ray were hauling a beautiful Fraser fir into the apartment and clamping it into its stand as though they were old friends.

And Ray Kowalski hadn't once asked about Stella.

Perhaps Fraser should give the eggnog a try.

* * *

"So Benny didn't figure it out till you guys got up to Canada?" Ray Vecchio said, twisting a miniature bulb out of its socket, tossing into the pile of dead ones, and fitting a new one into its place.

"I don't know. You got to ask Fraser how much he figured out. I mean, he knew I loved him, he knew I was crazy about him—heck, I jumped off buildings into the goddamn lake for him, and I couldn't even swim. I went through a plate-glass window on a motorcycle. Did the same thing another time without the motorcycle. I cleaned glass out of my hair more times than I want to remember. But I don't think he realized I'd, you know, want to..."

"Yeah," Ray Vecchio said, a bit hastily. "I get it."

"Which," Ray continued, "it's not like I'm that subtle when I like somebody."

Fraser, listening as he peeled potatoes, couldn't quite prevent a little ironic laugh from escaping his lips.

"I hear you in there, Ben, don't think I can't," Ray warned. He handed Ray Vecchio another strand of lights. "Stella probably told you how I followed her around like a hungry mutt, huh?"

"Not a word, Kowalski. She don't kiss and tell. You don't have to worry about that." He shrugged. "I don't have to worry about it, either."

"Aw, man, sorry. Shit, I wasn't thinking."

"It's all right. I love her the way she is. It's not like I don't have ghosts of my own. You get to be our age, you have a past. I wouldn't want a woman who didn't understand that."

"Yeah," Ray said after a moment. "You been a cop a long time, you been...you know." He gestured.

"Undercover. It's not a dirty word."

"I know, I just...we don't want to..."

"Wreck Fraser's merry Christmas."

"Right."

Fraser leaned toward them over the breakfast bar. "I'm fine, Ray, Ray. To have both of you here with me—it's already the merriest Christmas I've ever experienced."

Ray looked up, swallowing, his eyes glistening suspiciously. "Aw, Frase."

"Benny..."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Ray said to Ray Vecchio.

"Fraser deserves a big hug?" Ray Vecchio said.

"Yeah."

They both got up and came into the kitchen. Ray caught Ray Vecchio's gaze and tilted his chin toward Fraser, signaling _you first._

Ray Vecchio held his arms out and waited for Fraser to put down the potato peeler.

"Ray," Fraser protested. "I hardly think..."

"Stop thinking, Frase," Ray Kowalski said. "Some things you shouldn't think about, you should just do."

"C'mere, Benny."

Fraser swallowed. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and stepped into the circle of Ray Vecchio's arms. Ray Kowalski came quickly around behind Fraser and pressed the length of his body up against him from thighs to shoulders, his lips whispering kisses into Fraser's hair, his arms enclosing Fraser's shoulders, his hands reaching around to pat Ray Vecchio's back, including him in the embrace.

If Fraser had thought his heart was full before, he had been mistaken. Or perhaps Ray, with his irrepressible openness and generosity, had somehow created new spaces in Fraser's heart.

"Aw, jeez, Stanley," Ray Vecchio muttered. But he didn't sound displeased.

"Family, Alfonso," Ray said, "Family."

"Christ, Ma told you my other name?"

"That and lots more," Ray said. "So watch who you call Stanley." His breath puffed warmly against Fraser's ear, having a not-unexpected effect on portions of Fraser's anatomy quite a bit south of his ear.

Fraser cleared his throat. "Ah...I'd better put the potatoes in or they won't be ready when the roast is."

Ray kissed the back of his neck and let him go, but not before also shooting out a hand to rub playfully over Ray Vecchio's fuzzy scalp. "Let's finish the lights, and then Fraser can help put the ornaments on and tell us all about how they didn't have nothing to put on the buckthorn bush up in Freezerland."

"Well, we didn't," Fraser said, but he was smiling as he picked up the last potato and set to work.

* * *

The roast beef came out excellently, the potatoes were done on time, and Ray and Ray had the tree decked out and all ready to light up by the time they sat down to dinner.

Diefenbaker, given a dish on the floor right next to the table, wolfed his food as usual. Fraser gave him a stern look of reproof, but Ray kicked Fraser's foot gently under the table and pointed out that a wolf could hardly be expected to do other than _wolf_ his dinner, and Fraser had to concede. At any rate, Diefenbaker tottered over to the rug in front of the television, flattened himself, and proceeded to emit loud snores.

Ray put the stereo on, something with a soft Latin beat that covered the wolf snores quite well, and the three of them ate at a more leisurely pace.

As they finished dinner, Ray got up and went into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a bottle and a pair of glasses.

Ray Vecchio raised his eyebrows at him.

"Single-malt, fifteen years old," Ray said. "Isle of Mull."

Ray Vecchio let out a low whistle. "This ain't the kind of stuff you put in eggnog."

"Nah, that was just a little rum, for flavor. This here, this is for a toast."

"I hear you."

Ray poured two fingers of whiskey into each glass. "I'd offer, Frase, but it's pointless, right?"

"Right," Fraser said. "But thank you for the thought."

"Just make sure you don't toast the Queen," Ray Vecchio said, half under his breath.

"Don't I know it," Ray said. "Okay, I got it." He raised his glass. Ray Vecchio raised his, and Fraser completed the circle with his water glass. "To partners and friends. And before you ask, Ben, that _is_ easy to say." He grinned.

They brought their glasses together briefly, then sipped.

"Hear, hear," Ray Vecchio said. "This is great."

"So you want to hear about the sad little buckthorn bush?" Ray said, slouching in his chair and aiming a teasing smile at Fraser.

"Nah, I'd rather hear the rest of the story about the dogsled adventure," Ray Vecchio said. "And how you told Benny, you know."

Ray took another sip. "Jeez, I don't know where to start. The ice crevasse, the mineshaft, the campfire? We could be here till next Christmas."

"Well, fast-forward to the moment when Benny really got the message."

"Huh. Okay. If you want." Ray grinned. "Before the trip, you know, he gave me these long lectures on how you stay alive out there when it's like fifty below. Even though it didn't get _that_ cold, not even close."

"Well, it was _spring,"_ Fraser put in.

"What's spring like up there?" Ray Vecchio asked. "Don't tell me. It's what we here in Chicago call 'winter.'"

Ray laughed. "Yeah. Except instead of watching out for fender-benders, you got to watch out for cracking ice and bottomless crevasses. Not to mention really big, really hungry wild animals. Like, you know, caribou and musk-oxes."

Fraser allowed himself one long-suffering sigh.

Ray Vecchio made get-on-with-it gestures.

"So cut to the chase, before we started I got like fifty lectures about keeping warm, and how to take care of my sleeping bag, and I had a great little bag; actually it's like five different pieces that fit inside each other, and I had it all ready to put on the sled.

"Fraser packed the sled himself while I took care of the dogs that morning. Anyway, when we set up camp the first night, I couldn't find my sleeping bag, and I discovered we had _one_ sleeping bag, and it wasn't either of the ones I saw before. Fraser forgot to tell me he ditched the smaller bags and got one big one."

"Well, yes, in my haste to finish packing the sled, I neglected to tell you. However, I had covered the subject on the Wednesday prior..."

"Lecture number forty-two," Ray said. "I know. Let me finish, here, Frase. I got in first, I got all cozy in my longjohns and socks and hat and stuff, and I waited. And when he finally climbed in the sleeping bag with me, I just grabbed his—"

"Aw, c'mon, you said no details," Ray Vecchio interrupted hastily.

"—hand," Ray finished, shooting a look at him. "Jeez, Vecchio, how rude you think I am? You think I'd grab something else when I didn't even say nothing first?"

"Oh. Sorry."

"I grabbed his _hand_ and held on like we were in an avalanche or something, holding on for dear life, like it was my last chance," Ray said. "I wasn't going to let go till he heard me out.

"And I confessed. Why I jumped on the outside of that plane with him, why I freaked out when I realized he wasn't going right back to Chicago, why I told him I wanted to go looking for Franklin's reaching-out hand two minutes after we pulled him out of the mineshaft." He smiled. "And, um. Then I told him why I was going to be breathing funny the entire time if he insisted on sharing one sleeping bag."

Fraser flushed, remembering how surprise had melted into delirious joy. But he didn't mind Ray Vecchio's knowing about it. He'd wanted Ray to know how happy he was.

"Because you were in love with him," Ray Vecchio said, nodding.

"Sharing the sleeping bag made perfect sense, Ray," Fraser said, getting up to put on the kettle for tea. "Carrying only one saved room for vital supplies."

"Like my coffee and chocolate," Ray put in. "Which, thank you for that, but you could have told me about the sleeping bag."

"An oversight," Fraser said, but Ray just snickered and took another sip of whiskey.

"It was the most efficient use of space," Fraser explained. "It had the added benefits of keeping us warmer and making it easier for me to keep watch over Ray's physical condition, as he wasn't accustomed to an Arctic environment."

"Oh, yeah, you wanted to check out my physical condition, all right," Ray said with a wink. "Do you always check out a guy's physical condition with your tongue?"

Fraser looked quickly at Ray Vecchio, but he saw only laughter in his friend's face.

"He checks out most things with his tongue, Stanley, wasn't that in the files? You got to learn to just look the other way."

"I don't recall any complaints at the time," Fraser said rather huffily as he got up to get the kettle.

"Not a one," Ray said, and his tongue flicked out to touch his bottom lip, then darted away. The sight sent heat through Fraser's body. He turned toward the stove more quickly than he might otherwise have done.

There was silence from the table as the water heated. When Fraser glanced over, he merely saw Ray and Ray sipping their whiskey in companionable silence. Fraser poured his tea and started back to the table with his cup.

"So...Fraser's reaction?" Ray Vecchio prompted.

"Kind of surprised," Ray said. "But into it. He was all over it."

"Elated," Fraser supplied helpfully.

Ray's smile lit up his face.

Fraser sat down. "I hadn't been sure, to that point, that when Ray said he loved me, he meant he'd be willing to share his life with me."

"Even though he couldn't make himself walk away?" Ray Vecchio said with some incredulity. "You didn't catch on when he started throwing a hissy fit the minute I came and took back my life? I thought he was a lovesick puppy, and I didn't even know him."

"Puppy," Ray said, snorting. But Fraser noticed he didn't deny it.

"Too scruffy to be a kitten," Ray Vecchio said.

"You got that right."

"You may be the 2-7's hotshot, but I didn't get my detective's star out of a cereal box, either. You think I couldn't see what was written all over your face?"

Fraser half-expected Ray to bristle again, but he just laughed. "Yeah, I bet a lot of people saw it. Lucky for me they didn't realize I wanted in his pumpkin pants, too."

Fraser knew he'd gone pink again, but he smiled through the blush.

"People see what they expect to see." Ray Vecchio shrugged. "They probably thought you were worried about your job. Or that you needed serious decompression time."

"Well, yeah. There was that."

"He was, and he did," Fraser said. "It's how we got the Chicago PD to agree so readily to an extended leave for him, and we were able to go on our adventure right away."

"So it all worked out," Ray Vecchio said. "You guys climbed on your dogsled and rode off into the sunset together. Happily ever after."

"You got that right," Ray said. He sipped his whiskey and smiled. "Except it was the sun_rise."_

"It's a good story," Ray Vecchio said after a moment. "Just like a fairy tale." He snickered into his drink.

"You watch who you're calling a fairy," Ray said, "unless you want a kick in the head. You remember I said you're family?"

"Yeah?" Ray Vecchio's voice held a faint edge that sounded to Fraser like a challenge.

"Well, that means you're not a guest. And that means you get a kick in the head if you need one."

"Ray! It's Christmas!"

"Yeah, Ben, I know. So don't make me do it, Vecchio. You don't want to find out how far up your ass I can put my foot. This fairy wears motorcycle boots."

Ray Vecchio held up both hands. "You said it, I didn't." He leaned back in his chair. "All I meant, anyway, is the story's kind of weird, kind of magical, and it has a happy ending. It fits. Weird stuff's always happening around Fraser anyway."

"Don't I know it," Ray muttered.

Fraser cleared his throat. "You don't seem all that surprised, Ray. About...you know."

"I always knew you were a little bent, Fraser. I didn't hold it against you."

Fraser blinked in astonishment. Ray had _known?_ He cleared his throat, finally found his voice. "Well. Maybe you should have, Ray."

"What's that supposed to—"

Fraser couldn't keep his lips from twitching into a very slight smile.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Benny! You just made a—Kowalski, what've you been teaching this guy? Fraser just made a dirty joke."

"Don't look at me, Vecchio. Much as I'd like to take credit for it, I had nothing to do with it."

"Fraser, how much of that eggnog did you have?" Ray Vecchio said, his eyes narrowing. "You can't go toasting the Queen in front of him, Kowalski. Didn't you learn nothing being his partner all this time? Fraser can't hold his liquor."

Ray laughed. Or maybe it was more of a snicker. "I know that, Vecchio. But if it makes you feel better, I didn't toast Her Queenship, and I don't think Fraser had more than a couple of sips anyway."

"I saw him down a whole glass!"

Ray glanced slyly over at Fraser. "You sneaked it out of the kitchen, didn't you, Ben."

Sheepish, Fraser hung his head in lieu of answering.

"See, Vecchio? He drank the stuff I put aside for Dief, the batch without the rum." He poked two fingers in Fraser's direction. "Save some of that for the wolf or you're going to hear about it from him."

"Don't I know it," Fraser said.

"I don't know, Stanley," Ray Vecchio said, "I think he's tight."

A wicked gleam in Ray's eyes foretold disaster. "Oh, he's tight all right," Ray said before Fraser could think to stop him. "Everywhere it counts."

Fraser glanced over at Ray Vecchio, horrified, but Ray Vecchio just started laughing. "That I can believe," he gasped out between chortles.

"But he ain't drunk. We could _not_ be that lucky." Ray laughed so hard that tears came out of his eyes. He scrubbed at them with the back of his hand.

Ray and Ray, though not drunk either, apparently wished to get a little more, er, relaxed. They poured more whiskey and moved into the living room. Ray Vecchio settled on the sofa while Ray plunked down on the rug with his back against the coffee table and his legs stretched out next to Dief. Fraser cleared the dining table and said he'd get a quick start on the dishes, but Ray motioned him over with a tilt of his head and a mock-stern expression. "You cooked, Ben. The dishes are ours. Which we can get to them later. Get in here."

"I enjoy cooking," Fraser protested. "Besides, you took care of the tree."

"All right, then we can all have fun playing in the soap suds. Later."

"As you wish."

Ray pushed his glasses off and set them on the coffee table. "So Vecchio," he said, leaning back, stretching his long legs. "Your turn. How'd you and Stella get together?"

"Oh, God, you of all people don't want to hear that, do you?"

"Sure," Ray said easily. "I'm over my Stella obsession. Besides, you sat through me explaining about the sleeping bag and telling Fraser my undying love and all that."

So Ray Vecchio told them how he'd met Stella in Lieutenant Welsh's office while everyone waited for news of Ray and Fraser on the trail of Muldoon and the nuclear submarine. He'd looked at her and she'd looked at him, and it was instant chemistry.

"It was nothing like your story," Ray Vecchio concluded. "No magic, no death-defying leaps from airplanes or impossible rescues from ice crevasses. No sleeping bags. Just a couple of people in criminal justice exhausted by the whole thing who found out they liked each other. A cop who finally coughed up his golden bullet without getting declared dead first, and an assistant state's attorney who thought she'd had enough of prosecuting bad guys and wanted to open a bowling alley."

Ray laughed. "She was always threatening to run away and open a bowling alley. I'm kind of surprised she really did it, but you've seen her bowl, obviously." He pantomimed throwing a neat strike. With sound effects.

"Yeah. She could've been a pro. I was pretty impressed the first time I saw her on the lanes. Actually, I'm still impressed."

"Me, too." Ray said. "Talk about setting them up and knocking them down."

"Well, she's doing that for the people of Miami-Dade now," Ray Vecchio said. "I run the alley and she's an ASA. Back to knocking down bad guys on weekdays. Tenpins only on weekends." Fraser thought he looked paradoxically happy and sad at the same time. Nostalgic, perhaps.

That raised the question, once again, of why Stella had abandoned Ray to navigate the tricky waters of Christmas Chez Vecchio alone. Fraser drew breath to ask, but Ray beat him to it.

"So you haven't said..."

"Where she is?" Ray shrugged. "Out in Vail. You remember that cousin of hers? Larissa, and her sister, um, Bunny-whatever?"

"Yeah, Buns. Bernice. I know them. That laugh of Bernice's could take paint off your hood at a hundred yards."

"That's the one. Yeah, well, that's where she is."

"Jeez, your family's maybe on the loud side, but they're a barrel of monkeys at the holidays. Especially Maria's and Frannie's little critters."

Ray Vecchio smiled. "Yeah. I love the little guys, no matter how much I complain about the noise and about them ruining my good shoes." He pointed at Ray. "You guys are coming with me in the morning."

"Hey," Ray protested.

"Family's family, _Stanley."_

Ray pointed back for a moment, as though challenging him, and then shrugged. "Okay. Once a Vecchio, always a Vecchio, I get that. So tell me why Stella doesn't. You guys have a fight?"

"Nothing like that. She just wanted to be in Vail, and I, uh, I had to be here. She's got, you know, lots of friends there."

"But it's Christmas, doesn't she..." _Want you there with her? Doesn't she love you?_ Fraser could practically hear Ray's unspoken thoughts.

"Yeah, well the thing is, she's got some guy out there, too. And he's not my type."

"Aw, that sucks," Ray said with feeling. After a minute, he added, "Stella ain't a one-man woman, Vecchio. Could've told you that, but..."

"But you were up in Canada saving the world as we know it." Ray Vecchio shrugged. "For what it's worth, I knew she wasn't the hearth-and-home type when I fell for her. She never lied to me."

"Plus, for what it's worth, she _does_ want me out there with her. I just, I wouldn't go."

"Which, I get that," Ray said. "I got all possessive about her, too. She can't live like that. She's like, evolved or something."

Fraser looked up at him rather sharply, but Ray seemed relaxed, matter-of-fact, about the subject. "Ray, you never told me..."

Ray waved a hand. "It didn't make any difference at that point, Fraser. I was just being crazy."

"You seemed like you were trying to win her back," Fraser said.

"I was off my nut," Ray said, "you know it and I know it." He took a long sip of his whiskey. "Plus, don't you think I know...c'mon, Fraser. You know she was going to sleep with me even though she was doing Orsini. I almost gave Dewey a black eye for saying it out loud, but I knew she was."

"Well, he'd been arrested. He'd deceived her and he'd broken the law. Obviously the relationship was over..."

Ray shook his head, looking rather rueful. "Nah, before that. Frase, you remember the night I came by the Consulate at 4 AM, woke you up?"

"Yes."

"She invited me in that night, too. I just...I didn't think it was a good idea."

"You were right."

"Oh, yeah. But at the time I was kicking myself. Thought maybe I could've got her away from him, maybe, if I stayed, if I showed her.... It just...it would've been for all the wrong reasons."

"Because you had misgivings about Alderman Orsini?" Fraser asked.

"Nah. Because maybe I was feeling a little desperate about trying to prove something to myself," Ray said cryptically.

"Come again?" Vecchio said.

"I wanted her," Ray said. "I really, really did want her."

"I know that, Ray. I felt for you."

Ray sighed. "Yeah. Well. See, when I felt it, when I felt that, you know, wanting to be with her so bad, just like always, it was kind of _proof,_ see. Proof that maybe I wasn't turning into the freak I was afraid I was turning into."

"But you were, weren't you?" Ray Vecchio said.

Ray stared at him a bit suspiciously. "Yeah. Guess I was."

"I'm afraid I don't follow at all," Fraser said.

"I was already, um, feeling stuff for you, Ben." Ray lowered his eyes, seeming embarrassed. "That thing with Stella, it was kind of a—what do they call it—an 'oh, God, I might be gay' panic."

Ray Vecchio chuckled.

Ray looked up, sharply. "You think that's funny, Vecchio?"

"Yeah, a little. What, don't you?"

"Fuck, no. I was the one panicking."

"Looks like you adjusted pretty well."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't go getting your shorts in a twist, Kowalski. It don't mean nothing but what I said. You adjusted, you're okay." He shrugged. "It just tickled me, that's all, the thought of Stella being someone's gay panic."

Ray snorted. "Hey, I was married to her for a long time."

"I figured that out, wiseguy," Ray Vecchio said, tapping his temple with one tapered forefinger. "So it was a _bisexual_ panic. Still, the thought of her being enough of a ball-breaker to turn a guy queer, that's rich."

Fraser saw Ray's hands become fists, felt his rising ire as though it were a tangible thing, vibrating in the air between them. "Ray, I don't think Ray meant to—"

"You talk about Stella that way, you're risking a broken jaw," Ray said between gritted teeth. "You don't like queers, that's fine, you just come out and say it. But don't go badmouthing Stella."

"I ain't badmouthing her," Ray Vecchio said. "I love her just the way she is. It just struck me funny is all. She's one tough lady."

Ray looked at Ray Vecchio in confusion, then glanced at Fraser.

"He does love her," Fraser said gently. "It's another thing you have in common."

"Yeah," Ray said, backing off. "Yeah. I...sorry, Vecchio. I don't know what it is about Stella. I'm over her, but I can still get all bent out of shape about her."

"Bent, yeah," Ray Vecchio said, and chuckled.

"There you go again with the...Vecchio. You want to tell me why you're baiting me?"

"Probably because it's so easy to get your goat, Kowalski."

"You're asking for a kick in the head. You want to tell me why?"

Ray Vecchio looked into his glass. It was a long moment before he looked up, his eyes shadowed. "Maybe I want you to hit me," he said.

"Ray!" Fraser said. Clearly more was going on here than had been apparent on the surface.

"What'd you do? What did you do to her?" Ray scrambled to his feet, his whole body taut as a bowstring, quivering.

"Nothing," Ray Vecchio said. He went very still, but he didn't shrink back against the couch cushions as most people would have done in the face of Ray's fury. "I could never hurt Stella."

It was rather the other way around, Fraser realized, even though one could hardly blame Stella for being unable to fill either Ray's unrealistic expectations.

Ray seemed to understand, too. He stared at Ray Vecchio. Slowly the challenge evaporated from his face, the tautness of his body began to relax. "You want me to hit you, huh? Finish what she started? I ain't going to give you the satisfaction." He pushed a hand through his hair, making it stand up in even wilder spikes than usual. "But just so you know, Stella didn't ruin me for women. I still like them. I just...I just found out I really do swing both ways. Besides, Fraser's...he's..."

Ray didn't finish, but he didn't have to. His feelings shone clearly in his gray-blue eyes.

"Yeah. Fraser's Fraser," Ray Vecchio said in a very gentle voice. "Look, Ray. I think you got me all wrong."

"How's that?"

"You think I got some kind of straight-guy chip on my shoulder here? Like I think everybody ought to be straight, or something's wrong with queers or some dumb thing like that? Like I care who sleeps with who, as long as they don't do it in the streets and start a riot?"

"Nah," Ray said after a minute, during which he folded his long frame down to settle on the rug again. "Nah, I don't really think that about you, Vecchio. You're a good guy. Fraser's always believed in you, and he knows you real well. You were his best friend."

"Until I took off without warning, yeah." He looked away.

So that was it. He felt guilt on Fraser's account.

"I understand why you had to, Ray," Fraser said quietly. "I respect the sacrifices you made in the cause of protecting the public."

Ray Vecchio heaved a long sigh. "Yeah. I knew you would. I just...I just want you to know, Benny, that leaving like that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do."

"I know, Ray." Fraser swallowed. "But you did actually call to say goodbye, you just weren't permitted to say it in so many words. You told me you'd be in touch and you were."

"Yeah, Benny. It's just...a postcard isn't much to hold onto."

He looked somewhat lost, Fraser thought. He was alone...lonely.

Fraser knew what loneliness looked like. He'd seen it in both Rays, and plenty of other people besides.

He'd seen it in the mirror nearly every day of his life.

He couldn't let a friend sit there feeling that cold and empty and not _do_ something to help. He slid over on the couch and put his hand on Ray Vecchio's shoulder and squeezed, firmly.

His friend swallowed and looked away again.

"Shit, Vecchio, it's Christmas," Ray said. "Don't do this to him. Or yourself. Do not do this."

Ray Vecchio gave a start and looked up at Ray. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's all right," Fraser said. "I know what it is to be lonely."

"I know you do, Benny." Fraser could almost hear him add, _and some of that is my fault._

"It's not," Fraser said, answering the unspoken phrase. "It's not your fault. And it's over. It's long over now."

"Yeah," Ray Vecchio said, "Okay." But his eyes didn't seem convinced. They appeared old beyond his years.

"It's really all right, Ray."

A shrug. "Yeah, well, thank God it is. But that doesn't excuse anything. You were already out here alone in the concrete jungle, unarmed—" He waved away the rest of the thought as though he'd said too much.

From his place on the floor, Ray squinted up at Ray Vecchio, looking thoughtful. Fraser had seen that expression on Ray's face dozens of times when he was interviewing suspects and witnesses.

He finally let out a decisive "Hmph," got to his feet and came over to the sofa, plunking himself down on the opposite side from Fraser. "So you're the one who made Welsh recruit a replacement 'Ray Vecchio,'" he said quietly.

_"What?"_ Fraser exclaimed, but neither man seemed to hear him.

"Yeah," Ray went on. "I thought that was so screwy, especially choosing a guy who didn't even look Italian, much less anything like you."

Ray Vecchio glanced at him and didn't deny it. "White guy, just about the same height, slim build." He shrugged. "Kind of guy doesn't really look like a Chicago detective. And who notices him next to Big, Red, and Handsome, anyway?"

"Hey," Ray said, slightly indignantly.

"Who notices _anybody_ next to him?" Ray Vecchio said. "You ever get trampled by a dozen women trying get to him?"

"No," Ray said. "You're exaggerating. But, yeah, I know what you mean."

"Ray," Fraser protested weakly, unsure of which Ray he was protesting to.

"I _wish_ I was exaggerating," Ray Vecchio said. "I could give you names, places—but it's too humiliating."

Ray huffed a laugh.

Ray Vecchio looked Ray over as though seeing him for the first time. "Yeah, you're a little too good-looking for the part, but I guess they figured it was an even tradeoff considering the scruffy clothes and the fact you don't shave too often." He waved a hand. "Look, the important thing was to find somebody who could mesh well with Fraser and not let him tear Chicago down around his ears."

Fraser started again at that, and this time he cleared his throat rather loudly. Had Ray Vecchio and Lieutenant Welsh recruited Ray Kowalski as a sort of _nanny_ for Fraser? Much as Fraser appreciated the advent of Ray in his life, the thought stung.

But Ray was shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, Frase. It's not what you're thinking. Welsh didn't want to lose you, you're too valuable to him. He wasn't going to assign you to someone like Huey you didn't click with."

"I don't dislike Detective Huey," Fraser said, slightly indignantly.

"Who does?" Ray said. "He's a decent guy. It's not that."

Ray Vecchio chimed in. "Welsh didn't want to pair you up with just anybody. He had to find somebody flexible enough to deal with the licking stuff and the Sherlock stuff and the getting thrown in dumpsters. Huey's okay, but flexible he's not."

"But I don't understand," Fraser said.

Ray Vecchio's smile was warm. "You don't understand that you and I had a great solve rate, and Welsh didn't want to lose that? You don't understand that your boyfriend here was a three-times-decorated detective who had his own crackerjack solve rate, but also an unfortunate tendency to hit first and ask questions later? That he needed somebody to rein him in, somebody who actually gave a shit about rules and regulations, and you were the perfect choice?"

Ray looked more amused than miffed. "Sounds like they put us together to keep us _both_ out of trouble, huh, Frase?"

"Possibly," Fraser said, somewhat mollified.

"Which that maybe backfired on them a little."

"Besides," Ray Vecchio continued as if there'd been no interruption at all, "I hate to tell you this, Kowalski, but you could pass for Italian. You got a good bone structure, good nose. Great cheekbones. Bet you there's more than a few guys up in the north of Italy look just like you. You do undercover a lot?"

"Some." Ray shrugged. "I didn't make a career out of it, but, yeah, I was a Vice decoy for a few years. Did a few big sting operations, too, stuff like that."

"I can see that. You could pass for a lot of things. And hey...if Marlon Brando can be a Stanley Kowalski, there's no reason a Stanley Kowalski can't be a Ray Vecchio, right?" He sighed exaggeratedly. "Except for the clothes."

Ray snorted but didn't take the bait.

"Besides, you got to admit they were right about the partnership. You guys are _still_ partners. In more ways than they expected, even." He smiled at Fraser, his eyes sparkling. "And despite Fraser's best efforts, Chicago is still standing."

"How'd you find out all that stuff about me?" Ray asked.

Ray Vecchio chuckled. "Asked Welsh after you guys were in Canada. Stella knew some of it. In case you care, she thought you were probably a good influence on each other."

"Did she? She never showed it." Fraser had never thought she approved of him in any wise. It was rather shocking to hear that she had, after all.

And just like that, they were back to Stella, and the pain on Ray Vecchio's face, and Fraser felt the sting like a knife wound. Because he knew something about hurting Ray Vecchio. He probably knew a lot more than Stella did, in fact.

He certainly hoped so.

"I'm sorry," Ray said without warning. "I'm sorry, Vecchio. I should be yelling at her for hurting you, not the other way around, shouldn't I?"

"I don't want nobody yelling at her," Ray Vecchio said. "She gets enough of that on the job."

"Yeah," Ray said. "I could never, either. I felt like yelling at her, I just bottled it up and the next perp to look at me cross-eyed got an earful. Sometimes my partner did. Or my lieu."

"Yeah," Ray Vecchio said. "I understand that."

Ray shrugged. "Most of the time I just took it down to the gym. If I was smart I beat the shit out of the heavy bag. If I was real stupid that day I'd yell at some guy a couple of inches taller and forty pounds heavier, and he'd wipe up the ring with me."

Fraser winced, imagining. He'd witnessed the scenario, near enough, while working as Ray's partner. In his mind's eye he could see Ray in the ring, looking for a fight: wiry and scrappy, tall, but so lean that his ribs showed. He was no match in the ring for a good boxer of any size, let alone one a lot heavier than he. Ray's pugilistic talent lay in street fighting, not boxing according to rules that unevenly favored weight and strength over his natural assets of flexibility and cunning. Still, he'd gamely put himself into the ring again and again.

Ray might not best the best boxer, but he was certainly good at goading a man to hit him. He'd convinced _Fraser_ to do it, after all, more than once, and _that_ took talent.

No wonder, Fraser realized, that Ray had seen through Ray Vecchio's baiting so quickly.

Ray's eyes reflected pain now. But Fraser could tell it was more on Ray Vecchio's behalf than remembered pain of his own. Ray was looking at Ray Vecchio quite differently now, perceiving their kinship: they'd both been madly in love with Stella even though she was probably wrong for both of them; they both still loved her and always would.

Fraser could never see pain in those beloved eyes and not want_—need—_to ease it, somehow. "Ray, I'd—how can I—?"

But Ray was looking at Ray Vecchio, his gaze soft with understanding, and as Fraser watched he reached out and closed his hand over Ray Vecchio's shoulder at the collarbone and squeezed gently.

Ray Vecchio swallowed hard. "Kowalski, uh, Ray, I—"

"Let me hold you," Ray said. "That'd be good, wouldn't it? To be held?"

Clearly taken aback, Ray Vecchio shot a startled glance at Fraser.

Fraser looked back with a bemused smile. Who could explain Ray, with his mercurial temperament, his intuitive leaps, his generosity of spirit? Fraser simply knew he responded to Ray the way tundra flowers did to summer sunlight—living for it, yearning for it, growing toward it.

Bursting into exuberant bloom under it.

He felt a flush of pride to witness Ray's empathy simply _opening_ to include the man whose name he'd carried, whose life he'd protected, whose family he'd treated as his own for a year.

It was almost as profound a gift as stepping in front of a bullet for someone.

And it was not lost on Fraser that the man Ray was offering this gift to was Fraser's own dear friend. It warmed him inside, it made his throat feel thick and tight. He'd wanted them to know each other. He'd so wanted them to hit it off.

"Um...jeez." Ray Vecchio didn't seem to be able to answer.

"Unless, you know, you don't want a scruffball like me hugging you, which, you know, I could understand that...." Ray trailed off uncertainly.

"It's not that," Ray Vecchio said, his eyes intense on Fraser now. "Benny..."

"It's all right, Ray," Fraser told him soothingly. "Ray's a very physical man. He's a...his mother terms it 'a hugger.'"

"I mean, I know I ain't Stella," Ray said, "but I'm a guy who understands about her. I got these two arms, I got...well, I know I'm not much, but..."

"Jeez, Stanley, Benny let you talk about yourself like this? You landed _Fraser,_ for God's sake. You know how many people in Chicago have tried to get into his sleeping bag? You succeeded where beauty queens failed—and I ain't only talking about the female kind.

"You got to be a lot more than 'not much,' you idiot. You got to be something pretty goddamn special."

"He certainly is," Fraser put in emphatically.

"I'm seeing that," Ray Vecchio told Ray, his dark green gaze steady. "Look, Stan—I mean _Ray_—I'd be honored. Come here."

So Ray pulled him into a fierce embrace.

Fraser felt it, nearly as tangibly as if Ray had been holding _him._

"Not to mention," Ray Vecchio murmured against Ray's neck, "you landed Stella, too."

"Which look where that got me," Ray said.

"Hey, she calls you."

"Yeah, problem is _what_ she calls me."

Ray Vecchio choked off a laugh. He pounded Ray's back once, firmly, with the side of his fist. "Will you stop? She loves you, in her own way, whether you know it or not."

Ray nodded, the spikes of his hair brushing against Ray Vecchio's ear. "Yeah, I know." His hand came up around Ray Vecchio's back, rubbed soothingly in large circles. "It's okay. I'm even happy again. There is Life After Stella."

Ray Vecchio heaved a large sigh. "I realize that. _You_ realize I haven't left her? That I'm going to be there when she gets back, waiting for her? Welcoming her home?"

"Yep," Ray said. "Know a chump when I see one. Saw one in the mirror every day for twenty-three years." But his eyes were smiling, and Ray Vecchio wasn't a man to be fooled easily. He laughed softly and put an arm up around Ray's back as well.

Fraser, watching, found he had to swallow an excess of saliva that had suddenly flooded his mouth.

"Too bad you're straight," Ray said, his eyes focused intently on Fraser, boring into him, laser-sharp.

Fraser's breath caught in his throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ray Vecchio spluttered, but he stayed right where he was.

"Just that if you wanted to 'hold it against him,' I think your friend Benny here would still be happy to make you feel real good." He winked at Fraser.

This time, Ray Vecchio did pull back; he thrust Ray away from him to arms' length so quickly that he almost pushed himself back into Fraser's chest. But he didn't let go. He held Ray there by the shoulders and stared hard into his eyes. "Tell me I heard you wrong, Stanley, because if I heard what I think I just heard, you owe Fraser an apology."

Fraser cleared his throat. He kept his voice calm, but he knew his cheeks were flaming. "He doesn't owe me an apology," he said quietly. "He speaks for both of us."

Ray Vecchio whipped around to stare at him openmouthed, but he _still_ didn't let go of Ray's shoulders. Fraser saw Ray noting the fact, as well.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm quite serious," Fraser said steadily.

"So am I," said Ray. He raised his hands to cup them over Ray Vecchio's on his shoulders. "You don't got to take me into the bargain unless you want to. I can watch." He shrugged. "Or not." He let his hands drop, looked away, nodding. "Um, sure. You probably wouldn't want that...."

Ray Vecchio whipped back around to him. "Jesus, what—? You telling me you're not a one-person guy, either, Kowalski?"

"No, I am," Ray said, looking back at him, his eyes intense and certain once again. "Fraser's it for me, like you said."

"How can you do this to him, then?"

"I ain't doing nothing _to_ him," Ray said simply. "Me and Fraser, we're like a package deal. We want to do this together. Even if you, you know, don't want me in the bargain, it's still both of us offering."

"I don't get it," Ray Vecchio said.

"You're like, you're an exception, Vecchio." He jerked his head at Fraser. "Tell him, Ben."

Fraser shrugged. "Just as Ray says," was the only clarification he could come up with. "You're very important to us."

"It's like you're part of us," Ray added. "You took a bullet for him. Me, I've _been_ you. Matter of fact, you took a bullet for me, too."

"Not really," Ray Vecchio said, sounding quite offhanded. "Muldoon was shooting at both of us. I just got in the way." He still looked quite shocked.

"Yeah, you got between me and the bullet," Ray said, with a gentle edge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Whatever," Ray Vecchio said. "Listen, you don't owe me nothing. That bullet had my name on it. It ended up being the golden bullet I wanted a few years ago, anyway. It's like I asked for it." He shrugged, finally letting his hands slide off Ray's shoulders.

"I don't see how you figure that," Ray said.

"I should have known that within twenty-four hours of seeing Fraser again, bullets were going to fly," Ray Vecchio said. "I was undercover in the goddamned mafia for all that time, and I never saw a gun battle like that. One day after Fraser reappears in my life, I get shot. Must be my karma."

"Well you're not a cop now," Ray said. "You paid your dues, and now karma can leave you alone."

"That," Ray Vecchio said, "is the only reason I'm willing to show up in the same state with this guy again." But his eyes sparkled, giving his words the lie.

Fraser smiled back. "I missed you, too, Ray."

"Goddamn it," Ray Vecchio said, "My life's never been the same since I met you, you crazy Canadian."

"Hear, hear," Ray said, lifting his glass.

"Ray. Ray, honestly," Fraser spluttered at them both.

Ray put his drink down. "So you gonna answer us, Vecchio, or do we gotta guess?"

"You guys are for real?"

"Take us in the bedroom and find out for yourself," Ray said with a jaunty motion of his head and shoulders.

"Yes," Fraser said firmly. "We mean every word."

Ray Vecchio blew out a shaky breath.

Ray fumbled on the coffee table for his drink and handed it to him without ever glancing away.

Ray Vecchio downed the remaining liquor in one draught and pushed the glass back into Ray's hand.

"More?" Ray asked.

"No—no thanks. Dutch courage is one thing, but I don't like feeling buzzed or out of control."

"Yeah, I get that," Ray said. "That's good." He waited, watching.

Ray Vecchio swallowed again, looked at Fraser uncertainly, looked back at Ray. "I just...I just don't get...look, like you said, I'm straight."

"We're not talking about you doing nothing to us. You want to, you can, but you don't have to. We're talking about making you feel good."

"But—why?"

"Cause you're _you,_ idiot. Fraser loves you, and I _was_ you, and we both would enjoy it."

"And this wouldn't hurt you—you could both do this and it wouldn't hurt your, um..."

"It wouldn't hurt our partnership," Fraser said, feeling sure.

"The guy threw me out of a plane and I'm still with him," Ray said. "What does that tell you?"

"I'm straight," Ray Vecchio said again, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. And Fraser had seen how he'd responded to Ray's hug.

"You do yourself, don't you?" Ray said with a hint of a smile.

"Of course, Stanley, doesn't everybody?"

"Nah, there's this guy in Decatur who doesn't."

"What's your point, funny guy?"

Ray shrugged. "You've already had a guy's dick in your hand and a guy's hand on your dick, and it was good, right? Just saying."

"That is just weird."

Ray laughed softly. "Look, it's just an offer. You don't have to take it, and you got time to think about it. This couch still folds out."

"Look, I'm overwhelmed," Ray Vecchio said. "Maybe even tempted, 'cause you guys, you're both so...you're a part of me, like you said. And I've been so..." _Alone,_ he didn't say.

Even Stella couldn't really understand what undercover had been like, Fraser realized. But Ray did. So did Fraser. He remembered the look of betrayal on a young girl's face when she found out he wasn't the woman he'd been pretending to be.

"But I don't get _why_ you both would even...Fraser's so..._beautiful,_ and you...under that scruff, Ray, you're a real good-looking guy yourself. Me, I'm just a _paisan'_ who's over-endowed in the nose department and whose hair is a fond memory."

"Stella wanted you," Ray said. "You think she don't have eyes, either?"

"She's a woman. They put up with a lot of ugly guys."

"Stella isn't fooled by appearances," Fraser said. "Well, not easily," he added, thinking of Orsini.

"Besides, who says you're ugly?" Ray countered. "You got a great smile, downright gorgeous eyes."

"Huh? You think so?"

"I'm looking at them, ain't I? You're attractive. You got your own groove going, Vecchio, you got your suave thing going, your fancy threads."

"You're talking about taking them _off."_ His voice went a bit high on that last.

"You got a good body underneath," Ray said. "I can kind of tell. Don't he, Fraser? You must've seen him sometime."

"Yes, he's beautiful," Fraser said, nodding, gratified to see a slight flush rising in Ray Vecchio's face.

"Jeez, Benny, I didn't know you were looking."

"Ben can see a fly on the wall from down the block," Ray said. "C'mon, you know he can't help noticing _everything._ I doubt he was secretly ogling you back in the day."

"I wasn't," Fraser said, reaching out his hand. Ray Vecchio took it awkwardly. His hand was a little cold. "It isn't about that at all."

Ray Vecchio turned his hand so that he was holding Fraser's now. He slowly laced their fingers together.

It was an answer. Fraser swallowed, watching him intently.

"I bet there's an Inuit story for this," he said, still sounding a bit shaky. "Weird as this is."

"Well, yes, Ray, there are many."

Ray groaned, only half under his breath. Fraser couldn't see, but he was sure Ray was rolling his eyes, too.

"At least, there are many dealing with traditional Inuit hospitality, if that's what you mean. One's spouse or an unmarried adult relative was sometimes offered to warm a guest's bed. The practice dates back to nomadic times and was possibly a method of community survival in case a husband could not father children, or perhaps to ensure the gene pool was more mixed. I'm not sure the traditional Inuit thought of it in those terms, however. For them it probably had more to do with cementing family alliances. Life on the tundra could be very—"

"Wait, wait, Benny. Slow down for those of us who aren't anthropology professors. You're not saying there's a _gay_ version of Inuit hospitality?"

"Well...no. Not as such. That part would be non-traditional. But circumstances require we adapt a bit." Fraser's free hand went to his eyebrow, smoothing it. "Do you _need_ an Inuit story, Ray?" He knew Ray Vecchio would understand what he was asking: _Do you need something to call this, a way to hold this experience that doesn't change who you've always conceived yourself to be? Do you need me to make up a fancy explanation so you can let yourself enjoy this?_

"Not really, Benny."

Ray slid closer to Ray Vecchio on the couch, putting his hand out, asking the second question. Fraser could see how that one would be answered, too.

He felt a smile steal over his face. Would Ray never cease to underestimate himself?

Ray Vecchio slowly surrendered his free hand, letting Ray's long fingers twine around his.

"That's good," Ray said. "Yeah, that's real good." He stroked the back of Ray Vecchio's hand with his thumb.

"See, I've always liked girls so much I never really looked at guys," said Ray Vecchio, "but in Vegas I learned not to take the good things in life for granted." He swallowed. "Two friends who want to make me feel good—especially on a night like tonight, when I've been at loose ends, feeling alone, feeling sorry for myself—I'd be a complete moron to turn that down, wouldn't I?"

"Not if the idea didn't appeal to you," Fraser said gently. It was easy to say, because he was quite clear the idea _did_ appeal to his friend.

Ray Vecchio's soft, lovely eyes seemed huge as they searched Fraser's. "Jeez, Benny. You are so beautiful, you know that?"

It was Fraser's turn to blush. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ray put a hand on Ray Vecchio's shoulder.

Fraser leaned forward.

"Go ahead," Ray whispered, to one or both of them.

Fraser felt rather than saw Ray Vecchio lean toward him also. Their lips touched. He heard Ray humming his approval in the background.

Fraser closed his eyes, the better to take in the sensation. The lips pressing his were very soft, unlike Ray's frequently chapped ones, the mouth wider than Ray's...just _different._ Fraser kissed those lips slowly, very gently, for long minutes before he began to tease them apart with his.

Ray Vecchio didn't make the slightest motion to pull away. His breath was fragrant with whiskey, sharp and sweet. Fraser sought the taste with just the tip of his tongue, letting it enter only as far as the incredible softness just inside Ray's lower lip. Slowly, tentatively, Ray's tongue touched Fraser's, pushed against it, retreated, came back for more.

Arousal surged inside him as though it had been awaiting orders and they'd just arrived, a whole detachment of physiological reactions standing fully alert and ready for maneuvers. Fraser tried to breathe, forced himself to proceed very slowly. He didn't want to cause any anxiety, and he certainly wanted his arousal to last long enough to satisfy both his friends.

Eventually he had to come up for air.

"Wow," Ray Vecchio said after he caught his breath. "Wow, you're really something, Benny. But I always knew you would be. Well, not that I thought about it, really, but for anyone who finally got you into...well, I knew you'd be...you know."

"Hot." Ray squeezed his shoulder from behind. "That was _hot."_

Ray Vecchio turned, leaned back, looked at him. "You want to try it?" he challenged.

"Sure, Vecchio." Their hands were still clasped, Fraser noticed, surprised. He realized they'd remained clasped throughout the kiss. The thought sent renewed heat into his face.

As he watched, Ray let go and slid his hand up Ray Vecchio's elegant silk sleeve to his shoulder, his neck, the side of his jaw. He knelt up on the couch, leaned forward, and put his lips on Ray Vecchio's. Fraser's heart thudded.

Ray Vecchio responded more quickly this time, letting his mouth slacken, letting Ray play with his lips, letting him thrust his tongue inside, gently, quickly, in and out. Fraser's jeans suddenly felt far too tight. He squirmed on the couch, his leg pressed up against Ray Vecchio's from hip to knee.

Ray sat back on his heels but didn't break the kiss. He put his left hand to Ray Vecchio's face, and without warning put his right one on Fraser's thigh, sliding it up. Fraser gasped. Ray didn't so much as glance toward Fraser, but his hand crept unerringly to Fraser's waistband and tugged, then tapped the button meaningfully.

Fraser didn't think about it. He simply undid the button and let the zipper slide down, which it did quite effectively on its own.

Ray hummed into Ray Vecchio's mouth and blindly pushed his hand into the opening of Fraser's jeans. His long fingers shaped themselves around Fraser's erection through the starched cotton, teasing it to full hardness within seconds. His hand snaked under the flap. Fraser noticed, impressed, that Ray's eyes were still closed and he was still kissing Ray Vecchio thoroughly and without haste.

Fraser couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight. He hardly noticed Ray's hand moving again until it grasped his bare flesh, tugging his erection out into the open through the slit in his boxers. "Ray!" It was appreciation and protest both. What if Ray Vecchio opened his eyes, saw, became alarmed? Kisses were one thing, after all, but...

Ray's hand stopped stroking abruptly and tightened on his cock. Fraser heard him break off the kiss. "I can feel you thinking, right through here," Ray warned. "You're not supposed to try to _think_ with the little head, Ben." His fingers spread out on Fraser, stroked down deliciously, then up again with a little twist at the end as though to emphasize his statement.

"Oh," was all the speech Fraser seemed capable of at the moment, so he supposed Ray had proved his point elegantly.

Ray Vecchio's eyes were still closed, his face still turned towards Ray and away from Fraser, but he was leaning so far back on the couch that if he opened his eyes, he'd see pretty much everything.

Ray leaned forward and pressed his cheek to Ray Vecchio's, preventing him from turning towards Fraser, and put his lips almost up against Ray Vecchio's ear. "You ready for this, Vecchio?" he said, keeping his voice very, very soft. "I kind of got Fraser a little bit out of uniform here, already. Didn't want those tight jeans of his to strangle anything important, if you get my drift."

"You got him..._out?"_ Ray Vecchio's light tenor climbed even higher than usual.

"Yep. Got him out waving in the breeze," Ray said. "You okay with that?"

"Our buttoned-up Mountie? This I got to see. Benny?"

"Certainly, Ray."

Ray released him, and Ray Vecchio slowly turned and opened his eyes. He let out a low whistle as he saw Fraser. Saw Ray's hand on him through the opening in his boxers. "Okay, there's a sight I never expected to see. Wow, you're really...that's just from...?"

"Mostly from watching you and Ray," Fraser said. "Although it, ah, started when I kissed you."

"Yeah?"

Fraser nodded.

"So I guess this is going to work."

"I think so, yes."

"He ain't the only one here with a boner," Ray said, looking pointedly at the crotch of Ray Vecchio's pleated trousers. None of the pleats was lying flat.

"No, I guess he ain't. Uh. You want to take this somewhere, guys?"

"Where?" Ray said absently, his eyes hot on Ray Vecchio.

"You got a bed, Kowalski? The couch is kind of small for three guys."

Ray shook himself, ran his hand over Fraser's cock one more time, and let go. Fraser almost groaned, but he wanted to last, so he restrained himself from grabbing Ray's hand and shoving it back into his boxers.

Instead he shoved the boxers down, hitching them under his balls so that the cloth wouldn't rub him. He didn't want to tuck himself away for the short trip to the bedroom. He heaved himself up from the couch and offered Ray Vecchio a hand up.

His friend blinked back up at him with very wide olive eyes. Fraser realized he must look a sight, with the white boxers sticking out of his jeans, tucked up under his erection, emphasizing it.

He started to turn away, blushing, but Ray Vecchio grabbed his hand and pulled himself up from the couch, standing so close that Fraser's cock poked the hip of his trousers, leaving a wet mark on the fine wool.

Ray Vecchio's long, tapered fingers slid into Fraser's hair at his nape, pulled him closer. "Never saw anything hotter, Benny." He leaned his forehead against Fraser's.

"Oh, you will," Ray said from behind him. Fraser felt Ray's hand brush his buttocks.

The hand on Fraser's nape trembled. "Which way?"

Ray steered them, and they didn't even trip over Diefenbaker, or wake him, thank goodness, as they moved to the bedroom.

Once there, Ray lost no time directing the action, entirely without words. He motioned for Ray Vecchio to turn the bedcovers down, and when that was done, he put his hands around Fraser's waist from behind and simply shoved his jeans and boxers down as far as they would go. That was about calf level, effectively hobbling Fraser, so he had to wait for Ray's help to step out of his shoes and then his clothes and socks.

Ray motioned to Ray Vecchio again, an instruction to help pull Fraser's shirt off him.

Eyes wide, Ray Vecchio did as requested. His hands trembled as they pushed Fraser's shirt up and helped him free his arms, one at a time. From behind, Ray pushed the back of the shirt up over Fraser's head, and Ray Vecchio collected it as it slid off, and laid it aside. Still spellbound, he turned back to Fraser and looked him over, really _looked_ at him, from head to toe.

Fraser couldn't help blushing any more than he could prevent the little shivers that ran over his skin, seemingly directed by the hot gaze on him.

Ray put his hand on Fraser's back and urged him forward onto the bed. Into Ray Vecchio's waiting arms.

"Oh, God, Benny. God."

"Was that too fast?"

"No. No, just fine."

Behind him, he could hear Ray stripping off his jeans and three layers of shirts. The motorcycle boots thunked down one by one in a corner, a white flash and then another went by Fraser's peripheral vision—Ray aiming his socks at the hamper. He turned his head to see Ray hooking his thumbs under the waistband of a worn pair of boxer briefs and easing them off around his half-erect cock.

Naked, Ray swallowed and looked up at him, his eyes bright. He kneeled on the edge of the bed and inched forward.

Fraser's heart surged in his chest. He pulled back from Ray Vecchio and turned around to gather Ray in his arms, stroke his hair, his back, hook both arms under, up, and around Ray's shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. They fit together as perfectly as always. Nothing was changed, except that they were sharing this with a friend, probably the only friend who would ever see them for what they were.

There was nothing tentative about their kiss. Fraser sank into Ray's willing mouth and felt, as always, that he was reuniting with a part of himself in Ray.

Behind him, Fraser heard Ray Vecchio suck in a rapid breath.

"Oh, God. Oh, God, _Benny_...Ray."

Fraser saw understanding on his friend's face. It warmed him to know that someone else perceived their truth: Fraser and Ray were not separate anymore. One was both and both were one.

"God, how beautiful. And you really want to—"

"Yes, we do," Fraser said as he finished the kiss with Ray and turned around again.

"That's enough out of you, Vecchio," Ray said, his voice light and teasing, taking any sting out of his words. "No more doubting us, okay? Yes, we want to do this. Look at Ben, for God's sake. He look like he don't want you?"

Fraser's breath caught in his throat as Ray Vecchio's eyes raked him hotly.

"Jeez. Jeez, Benny. Look at you."

Ray kneed his way around behind him, squeezing between him and the headboard. "He's something, ain't he, Vecchio?"

"Benny, you could make a saint weep." His hands were shaking a little.

Fraser took hold of them, gently, and squeezed reassuringly. "It's all right, Ray. I want to...will you let me show you..."

"Yeah, Benny, okay."

Fraser kissed him, very gently, stroking his face. When he pulled back, Ray Vecchio was looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, Benny, I hear you," he said. "Thanks."

Ray's hands came up to stroke Ray Vecchio's arms through his silk shirt. "How do you want to do this? You want to get naked with us or leave some of your fancy threads on? Up to you."

Ray Vecchio seemed to come back to himself. "Oh. Sorry. No, of course I'll take them off. Who the hell does it with their clothes on?"

"I don't know," Ray said. "Just wanted to go with whatever you're comfortable with. You being straight and all." He gave him an appealingly innocent look, which didn't fool Fraser for a second. He'd seen that look many times in the interrogation rooms, just before Ray elicited a confession.

It clearly didn't fool Ray Vecchio either; he snickered. "I get a pass on this one, huh? So how many guys do I have to make it with before I'm in danger of losing my straight status? Or am I gonna be like those girls at Immaculate Conception?"

Ray chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe."

"What girls?" Fraser was mystified.

"You know, Benny. Those girls. The ones who do half the football team, yet amazingly they're still virgins."

"Oh."

"Call it whatever you want," Ray said, shrugging. "Promise I won't kiss and tell, and you _know_ Constable Conscience don't." He reached for the top button on the silk shirt. "You want help with this?"

"Nah." Ray Vecchio unbuttoned his shirt nonchalantly and laid it aside on the chair a few feet from the bed. He reached for his belt buckle, only to have his hands swatted gently away.

"Let me do that, okay?" Ray had the belt undone before he even received an answer.

Surrendering to the force of nature that was Ray Kowalski, Ray Vecchio simply put his hands down at his sides and let Ray push and pull and ease him out of the rest of his clothing. "You're fast," he commented.

"Piece of cake after the Mountie dress uniform," Ray quipped, stretching around him to lay the clothes carefully on the chair with the silk shirt. "Which I am an expert at getting that off the guy by now."

"I can believe it."

Ray kneed his way around to take a look at him. "Mm-hm. Fraser was right. You're hot."

"Aw, Kowalski."

"Can I touch you?"

"You better. Otherwise I wrinkled my Armani for nothing."

"I got an ironing board," Ray said distractedly, putting his hand on Ray Vecchio's chest and stroking gently through the dark hair. "You're in pretty good shape, Vecchio."

A shrug. "Yeah, well. It's all the bowling." He pushed Ray's hand down to his abdomen. "Feel that."

"Nice. Could bounce a quarter off of those abs," Ray commented, brushing his hand over the olive skin in widening circles. He moved his hand lower. "You okay with this?"

His answer was a nod and a shiver that ran the length of Ray Vecchio's body.

Fraser watched, his mouth dry. He knew exactly how Ray's sensitive, long fingers felt when they...

Ray slid his fingertips down through the soft dark hair, down to Ray Vecchio's penis, which was long, slender, and shapely like the rest of his body. Rapt, Fraser watched it come fully erect in Ray's gentle, persuasive hand.

Ray smiled, tightened his hand, and stroked down, then up. "Nice. Real nice."

"Yeah." Ray Vecchio sounded a little breathless. His eyes fluttered closed, then open again. He looked down, watched Ray stroke him.

"You want it harder, faster?"

"No, that's good. That's real good, Kowalski."

Fraser couldn't help himself. He touched Ray Vecchio's shoulder, then took his hand, lacing their fingers together as he had done before. He raised their joined hands to his lips.

"Benny," Ray Vecchio said softly, even as he moved and sighed in response to Ray's stroking.

Ray was apparently enjoying it a lot, too. A faint sheen of sweat lay on his upper lip, his mouth was slightly open, his breathing slightly heavier than usual. Fraser looked down—oh, yes, Ray's cock, that lovely big cock that he knew almost as well as his own, was as hard as he'd ever seen it, and as Fraser watched, Ray absently wound his free hand around it and started to stroke himself in time with the strokes he was giving to Ray Vecchio.

Fraser moved before he'd even formulated the intent. He put his free hand around Ray's and squeezed gently. Ray smiled up into his eyes. He let himself go and Fraser took over, stroking him exactly as he knew Ray liked him to, firmly and slowly, speeding up very gradually.

After a few moments, Ray gasped and grabbed Fraser's wrist, stopping him. Ray drew his hips back. "Whoa, there, Ben. I want to last a few minutes at least."

Fraser reluctantly released him.

Ray slowed his own hand on Ray Vecchio. "Want to try this horizontal, Vecchio?"

"Sure."

Ray Vecchio allowed himself to be pushed gently down onto the bed, onto the pillow Fraser pushed under his head, right in the middle, so that Ray could lie on one side of him and Fraser on the other. "Mm. Lap of luxury," he commented.

Ray leaned over him. "You want to let me, um...can I suck you? Would that be all right?"

"You're _asking?_ Go for it."

Ray balanced himself with a hand on each side of the slender hips and bent to touch his lips to the head of Ray Vecchio's cock. Slowly, he put his tongue out to lick carefully over the crown once, twice; then he delivered a generous swipe over the entire head and abruptly swallowed him whole.

Ray Vecchio shouted, bucking up towards Ray. His hips made several stuttering thrusts. Ray simply smiled and went with them, like a dancer effortlessly responding to his partner's lead. He lowered his mouth on Ray Vecchio, encompassing as much of the long cock as he could, and began to suck.

Fraser shivered in sympathy. He knew that glorious wet heat so well that he could practically feel it on his own body.

His eyes shuttered, Ray Vecchio lay back against the pillow and moaned softly. "Oh God, Kowalski, oh my sweet..."

Fraser thought he might come apart then and there. And somehow Ray _knew,_ Ray was with him in this, because without losing his position or missing a stroke, he tilted his head, caught Fraser's eye and aimed a long, slow wink at him.

"Oh!" It was too much; Fraser clutched his own cock and squeezed till it hurt, forcing his imminent orgasm back.

"Oh, yeah," Ray murmured against Ray Vecchio's swollen flesh. "We really got Ben going there, Vecchio."

"Yeah?" The dark green eyes were amazed, maybe even a bit shocked. They searched Fraser's. "Benny?"

Fraser pressed up against his side and leaned in to kiss him. Such soft, soft lips. He'd always known they'd be soft.

When he had to pull back to breathe, Fraser turned onto his side and curled up against Ray Vecchio as closely as he could, giving Ray room to work.

The muscles in Ray's arms bulged as he braced himself above Ray Vecchio; he was working hard, sucking rhythmically now, moving his head up and down so that Ray's cock slid in and out of his mouth. He didn't have a hand free to touch anything else.

Fraser could assist, there; he cupped Ray Vecchio's balls gently, learning the feel of them, then he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, where Ray's mouth could not reach, and tried to pump him in time with Ray's movements.

Above them, Ray Vecchio let out a long moan that seemed to last several minutes, then he panted, "Guys, guys, I'm gonna—" His hips jerked. Sweat sprang out on his upper lip.

Fraser leaned over to lick the sweat away, and as his tongue made contact, tasting salt, Ray Vecchio gave an abrupt cry and went still, and Fraser felt the pulsations of orgasm under his hand. He whipped his head around to look; Ray was swallowing, swallowing, pulling off to cough once, and letting the last drops of ejaculate spurt onto his cheek instead.

He sat back, wiping his mouth, smiling a little, and Fraser was instantly on him, licking the rest of the ejaculate from his face. He took Ray's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, tasting Ray Vecchio in Ray's mouth.

When he finally released Ray, he realized the soft moans he still heard were coming from Ray Vecchio, who was lying back on the pillow in an attitude of complete exhaustion, his eyes fluttering closed, then open, then closed again.

"Oh my God, you guys almost killed me," he said between attempts to catch his breath. "But what a way to go."

Stretching out on Ray Vecchio's other side, Ray chuckled. "Beats a golden bullet."

"By a mile."

Ray ran his hand up Ray Vecchio's side. "So you like playing for the home team after all?

"I might need more convincing," Ray Vecchio said. He caught Ray's hand. "Hey, that tickles."

"Oh, I'm gonna do a lot more than tickle you," Ray promised. "After you revive."

"Don't wait for me. You boys go right ahead. I may never get it up again."

Ray rolled his hips, rubbing his cock against Ray Vecchio's thigh.

Fraser caught his breath: Ray was so _hard,_ leaking copiously. He put a wondering hand out to touch the deep-pink head, using his thumb to smooth the clear fluid over the crown, then around and under.

Panting, Ray pushed his cock up into Fraser's hand. "Yeah, Ben. Oh." His angular features were flushed, his gray-blue eyes bright. Oh, God, he was so beautiful. He was giving himself to Fraser, as always—and now he'd found a way to give _more._ Astonishingly, Ray was giving Fraser a chance to show his love to Ray Vecchio in a way he'd never believed would be allowed, an old dream, long-abandoned, now made real. Ray was giving that to Fraser right now.

Fraser's heart was full. He had never loved Ray more. He'd thought he must have reached the maximum when Ray turned down his transfer after the _Henry Allen,_ and he'd been wrong. Surely when Ray cried in his arms after saving Beth Botrelle from execution, surely then Fraser loved Ray as much as a person possibly could—but he'd been wrong, for there was more. When Ray rammed a motorcycle through a plate-glass window to save Fraser's life, Fraser thought then that he must finally have reached the pinnacle. But he hadn't.

And by the time Ray jumped onto the outside of an airplane rather than allow Fraser to follow his mother's killer to Canada alone, Fraser knew his love for Ray had grown exponentially greater.

And now Ray was giving him _this._

Fraser had never realized how much love could expand. If there was so much now, after all they'd been through together, might there not be yet more to discover? The thought was staggering. He opened his mouth to at least try to express a fraction of the thought to Ray, but Ray just smiled that incredible smile of his and said, "I know, Ben."

Between them, Ray Vecchio stirred and propped himself on one elbow, canting himself toward Ray. He put his hand on Ray's chest, caressing him. "Jesus, Kowalski. That mouth of yours."

Ray's grin turned jaunty. He looked down at him. "You liked that, huh?"

"Oh, God. I don't think there's a word for how much, not in English or Italian. You think there's a way to say it in semaphore, Benny?"

"We could invent one," Fraser said absently, his eyes on Ray, on the way Ray pushed his cock into Fraser's hand, rocking his hips against Ray Vecchio with each thrust.

Ray Vecchio suddenly seemed to notice the state Ray was in, and his eyes widened. He turned back to Fraser to confirm that he was just as hard and ready. He swallowed. "Oh. Oh, wow. Look. You both."

Fraser heard him take a quick, deep breath, and then he felt Ray Vecchio's hand on him, on his cock, for the first time. "Ray," he breathed. "You don't have to—”

"I want to," Ray Vecchio said, turning fully towards him so that his back was to Ray. Ray pulled his cock gently out of Fraser's grasp and rubbed it against the backs of Ray Vecchio's thighs instead.

"See, I get it. I think I get it," Ray Vecchio said to Fraser as he began to stroke him. "I see why you wanted to do this with me."

"Well. That was...I wanted to...to show you my..."

"Love," Ray Vecchio said. "It's all about love."

"Yes." Relief washed over Fraser, the relief of releasing a very old tension he hadn't even realized was there. "It's how I always felt, Ray."

"You weren't crazy in love with me, like you are with this guy," Ray Vecchio said, gesturing at Ray.

"N-no, but I wanted...I was so..."

"You were so alone, Benny. I know. You loved..."

"Inappropriately. When I dared to love, it was always someone who didn't want me, or—as you know—someone who was desperately wrong for me. But with you it was true friendship, and I wanted to express that properly, but I couldn't help also wanting..."

"I know, Benny. You couldn't let anybody touch you that you didn't trust. I was the one you trusted."

"That's right. You understand."

"Of course I do, Benny. I was _there."_

"Yeah."

"You would've done this with me then, if..."

"I would have," Fraser admitted. "If you'd wanted it, too, that is. But you didn't."

"That was before Vegas," Ray Vecchio said. "That was before a lot of things." His expression darkened. He let go of Fraser's erection and clasped his hand instead.

"Before The Stella," Ray intoned in a deep voice, half-jokingly. He licked a stripe up Ray Vecchio's spine, a long exclamation mark, and dotted it.

Ray Vecchio glanced over his shoulder at Ray, shooting him a look of loving exasperation.

"Yeah, before Stella, but that's not even half of it," he said. "I had to live as a crook for a year, and not just some small-time hustler like you've played. I had to be what I hate most—a mob boss. There were days—weeks—when I was sure I was one minute away from being found out. And there were days when I wished I was."

"Don't," Ray said. He wormed his arms around Ray Vecchio's body from behind and pulled him close. "It's done, it's over, you're not there no more. You're here with Ben and me."

Ray Vecchio swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"You really gotta confess to someone, you can tell me," Ray said. "Which I will take it to my grave. I am a priest of the Temple of Human Sacrifice, and after I hear all your sins I will eat you alive." He slid his hand down to Ray Vecchio's groin and gave his soft cock a gentle squeeze to illustrate his exact meaning.

_"Oh._ Is that a promise?"

"Sure, if Ben's okay with it."

"Of course," Fraser said, his throat going dry.

"But not here, not now, okay, Vecchio? Temple's closed for Christmas."

"Okay. Yeah. I'm sorry."

"S'okay. And the other rule is you do not lay it on Ben. He already has more to carry than most people can even imagine."

"You got it," Ray Vecchio said.

"But he gets to help eat you."

"I'm there," Ray Vecchio said.

Fraser knew his eyes were brimming, and he could hardly speak around the lump in his throat, but he managed, even though what came out wasn't terribly coherent. "Ray. Ray. You both...I can't even..."

"Yeah, Ben," Ray said, putting his hand on Fraser's cheek, caressing him for a moment.

"I get it, Benny," Ray Vecchio said, putting his hands on Fraser's chest. "That's what I was trying to tell you. It's all just love. Maybe you call it friendship or sharing or—" He glanced quickly back at Ray with a smile. "—or human sacrifice, but we're talking about love." Against his back, Ray went still, listening.

"This is in the realm of...of how we're all saints. Remember?"

"I remember," Fraser said.

"So it's okay. It's all okay. I'm here. I'm here with you. I could've been killed, and I _wasn't._ I'm here. So you got something to show me; however you want to do it is good." He smiled. "And although I freely admit I wouldn't have tried it in pretty much any other situation, this is the situation we have here."

Fraser smiled through slightly blurry vision. "Ray. You do understand."

"And Kowalski's mouth is something else."

Ray laughed, kissed the back of Ray Vecchio's neck, and began to move against him, rotating his hips in wide, sensual circles. Fraser knew that after just a few strokes, Ray would be hard again. He felt his own arousal return quickly at the thought.

"I know it isn't the same as what you guys have." Ray Vecchio sounded relaxed and calm. "And that's okay, because you know that's not what I wanted, Benny. I wanted a woman, and I still do."

"A woman who's really a woman," Fraser said, remembering.

Ray Vecchio laughed. "Right. Not a man in drag. Even though you were kind of sexy in that dress."

Behind him, Ray rolled his eyes. He knew the story; Fraser had told him all about that case.

"You know that, but you also know that I love you like...like a part of me, like Kowalski said."

"I know, Ray."

"And Kowalski and you are like..."

"One. We're one, now."

"Yeah, you are. So for me you're both..."

Fraser could feel as well as see Ray becoming impatient. Ray grasped Ray Vecchio's slim hips with both hands and began to slide his cock against him in earnest, along the backs of his thighs and then his buttocks, just grazing the cleft. "So what does that _mean,_ Vecchio, does that mean I can—?"

"It means, _Ray,_ that you can do whatever the hell you want with me. After that blowjob? I'd probably give you my firstborn, if you asked." He turned enough to look over his shoulder and make eye contact with Ray. "Anything you want," he said, quite seriously.

"'kay," Ray said after a moment, ducking his head almost shyly, brushing his lips against Ray Vecchio's nape.

Fraser sucked in a breath; surely he didn't mean—

"Chill, Ben," Ray said softly against Ray Vecchio's neck. "I ain't gonna do _that._ This is nice." He moved sinuously, fitting their bodies together, finding a position that pleased him. Finally, he settled his cock in the shallow cleft of Ray Vecchio's ass and began to thrust gently.

"Yeah," Ray Vecchio agreed, arching back against Ray. He worked his arm around Ray, grasping his hip from behind and pulling him closer.

His other hand was free; he'd let go of Fraser earlier, but his hand was still near. Fraser couldn't help himself; without thinking he rocked his hips so that his cock brushed that hand. Ray Vecchio responded instantly, clasping Fraser firmly in the circle of his fingers.

"C'mon, Benny. Whatever you want, too."

Ray's hand was suddenly on Fraser, smoothing over his flank, familiar, soothing. Fraser looked over at him. Ray's gray-blue eyes were intense, and not only with sexual excitement. Ray motioned with his head, lifted an eyebrow, and Fraser nodded.

Ray Vecchio blinked at Fraser in confusion, but his hand stayed firm around him. "Huh? What was that? You guys doing that telepathy thing?"

"Yeah," Ray answered after a moment. He tugged Fraser forward so that they were aligned, all three of them, on their sides, with Ray Vecchio in the middle, Fraser facing him on one side and Ray on the other. "We decided to make a Vecchio sandwich." He thrust up hard against Ray Vecchio's backside, pulling Fraser in firmly so that his body pressed Ray Vecchio's along its length.

Fraser caught his breath, a little shocked in spite of himself. For a moment the intimacy of the embrace was too much—his nipples rubbing Ray Vecchio's hairy chest, his erection prodding Ray Vecchio's belly, their thighs brushing together, even their feet touching. He blushed deeply, and couldn't meet either Ray's eyes.

"Hey." Ray's hand slapped his buttock, making him start and look up after all. "None of that. It's all good," Ray said. His voice was like velvet; his smile was gentle, understanding. "Feels good, doesn't it?" That simply, he refocused Fraser on sensation rather than thought.

"Oh! Yes, it does, Ray. Yes."

"You good, Vecchio?"

"Yeah, real good."

Ray's smile broadened. "Greatness. So go for it, Ben."

Fraser leaned over Ray Vecchio and craned his neck. Ray met him halfway with the tenderest kiss he'd ever given him, and Fraser felt his heart expand, yet again. Oh, indeed, there was more, much more ahead, and it _was,_ as Ray said, "greatness."

Ray Vecchio put a gentle hand up to smooth the hair back from Fraser's forehead, and only then did Fraser notice his brow was damp, sweating.

Fraser released Ray and eased back against Ray Vecchio, and before he'd given it any conscious thought, he was thrusting his cock into Ray Vecchio's hand and against his belly in exact sync with Ray's thrusts against his backside, and it was lovely, so lovely.

Ray Vecchio sighed between them, his body relaxing. He closed his eyes and seemed to bask in the sensations as Fraser and Ray moved against him. After only a moment, though, he gave a start, his eyes snapped open, and he started moving along with them both, following Ray's lead as though it were a dance.

Something blunt and warm and wet prodded Fraser's belly. He reached down to take a firm grip, feeling the warm flesh throb in his hand. "You're hard again."

"Go figure," Ray Vecchio said, and laughed softly even as he moved sensuously between them. "I'm in bed with the two hottest guys in Chicago and they _want_ me. Little Raimondo is not going to sit this one out."

Fraser put his hand over the hand on him and urged it around both their erections.

Ray moaned softly; his thrusts against Ray Vecchio accelerated, suddenly becoming erratic. He flung his arm over them both, hugging them tightly, and tilted his head back. His eyes closed, his long lashes fanning out over his cheek, the pleasure on his face smoothing away twenty years of struggle and worry and care.

Fraser felt Ray's pleasure in his own solar plexus, spreading like oil, soothing him. His own thrusts into his and Ray Vecchio's joined hands went wild; he lowered his mouth to Ray Vecchio's lips and put his free hand into the spikes of Ray's hair.

Ray Vecchio sighed against Fraser's lips, opening his mouth, letting Fraser in. After a moment, Fraser felt him kissing back, and that was enough; he heard himself cry out as he came, hot and messy, all over their joined hands. Ray Vecchio plundered his mouth, drinking his pleasure for a long moment, and then he surrendered as well, spilling renewed heat over their hands and their bellies.

Fraser held him close, laid his head down on his friend's shoulder, and tried to breathe.

Ray grunted and pushed himself up far enough to kiss Ray Vecchio's other shoulder and his cheek. Then he leaned in and kissed Fraser's lips swiftly before falling back against the pillow with a great, wordless exhalation.

"Jesus, I'm in trouble," Ray Vecchio said after they'd rested for a time in companionable and exhausted silence.

"Whyzat?" Ray murmured sleepily.

"I think you two just might be able to ruin me for women after all."

"Never happen," Ray mumbled as he dozed off.

Fraser smiled, reached for the bedside lamp to shut it off, and held Ray Vecchio close as they followed Ray into slumber.

* * *

It could not have been more than a couple of hours later when Ray's moan brought Fraser up from the depths of sleep. It was still dark in the room. The faint glow from the window was from streetlights and perhaps the moon, if it hadn't set yet, though the light didn't seem bright enough for that.

Another moan. "Oh, God. Vecchio, yes! Do it!"

That didn't sound plausible. Fraser pinched himself—yes, he was awake—and turned over.

What he saw made him instantly hard: Ray Vecchio, crouched on hands and knees over Ray, bending to put his mouth on Ray's cock. He moved slowly, tentatively, but with definite intent, smoothing his tongue over the dark-flushed crown, wrapping his hand around Ray's shaft, stroking upward, taking the first few inches into his mouth, tonguing him.

Ray was clutching the sheets in white-knuckled hands, the veins and tendons standing out on his wiry arms as he fought to keep from thrusting.

For a long moment, Fraser was absolutely spellbound, then another moan from Ray mobilized him. He shoved his covers off and slid his arms around Ray's shoulders, distracting him with a kiss. "Ben! God, look what he's..."

Fraser swallowed Ray's words in another kiss. Then Ray's hands were on him, stroking him deliciously, and Fraser slid over far enough to let Ray Vecchio push his erection against him, and very soon all three were back where they had been before, sweaty and exhausted and satiated, and this time Fraser was the one who nodded off first.

* * *

When they woke again it was near dawn. Ray Vecchio kissed them and climbed out of bed, saying he wanted to arrive at his family home in time to see the children find their presents under the tree. He showered, changed into a pair of slacks and a dark button-down shirt from his satchel, and shrugged into his coat. Leaning in the bedroom doorway, he looked down at Fraser and Ray, still tangled up together in the sheets, and chuckled. "You guys are something else."

"Takes one to know one, Raimondo," Ray said, knuckling his eyes. He sounded to Fraser's ears like a cranky schoolboy delivering an idle taunt, but Ray Vecchio appeared to read him well. He put his hand to Ray's cheek and patted it, and Ray grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Fraser wondered if he would ever learn to be as effortlessly demonstrative as his two friends, but he decided it didn't much matter. Just having them in his life was enough.

Ray Vecchio opened his satchel to toss in the suit he'd been wearing the night before. Fraser wondered at the fact that Ray had obviously been carrying an overnighter, and indeed, his thoughts must have been showing on his face, because Ray winked and told him he'd learned years ago always to have a change of clothes available when he and Fraser were going to be in the same zip code.

Then he hinted that his satchel contained other surprises as well, but said that Fraser and Ray were not going to get a glimpse of them until they showed up at the Vecchio house.

"Come at noon," he said, and patiently waited out their protests. "No discussion. It's Ma who invited you. You want to argue it with her?"

"We better give in now, Fraser. Ma takes no prisoners," Ray said, groaning, and pulled him back down onto his pillow. "Noon," he told Ray Vecchio, pointing with his index finger and his little finger at the same time. "Gotcha. Now I gotta get more sleep. You wore me out."

"Don't pay him any heed," Fraser said. "He's always like this in the morning."

"I figured." He turned to go. "Noon, Benny."

"We'll be there."

* * *

Much later, Fraser woke refreshed, curled protectively around Ray, just the way they'd often awakened in the North, on their quest.

Ray yawned, cracked his neck, and stretched like a great big cat. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, indeed. Did you have enough of a wallow?"

"Oh, yeah." Ray stretched again and turned to check the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Shit, Ben it's nearly ten o'clock. We slept half the morning away. Wow."

"I didn't know you were so concerned about rising early," Fraser teased, shades of the silly banter they sometimes engaged in on the job.

"Oh, I did plenty of _rising,_ plenty early," Ray said slyly, elbowing him in the ribs. "Which, as I recollect, so did you."

"So I did. It was...Ray, I can't begin to express how...utterly..."

"Incredible?" Ray prompted. "Wonderful, stupendous, fantastic, outstanding, extraordinary?"

"I thought it was Diefenbaker who ate my thesaurus."

"Hey, it was good with mustard. Besides, ask me how much I love it that you were the one stuck for the right word for a change. One of those work?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes, all of those and more. I don't know how to say thank you for such a wonderful...gift."

"You just did." Ray beamed. "Merry Christmas, Ben."

"It is. It truly is. And I already had all I needed. I already had _you._ Merry Christmas, Ray."

Ray smiled and reached over to brush at Fraser's bangs, which were falling untidily across his forehead. "There's what you need, and then there's what you _want,_ Fraser. A buckthorn bush and an educational book might be all you really need. But they don't make great Christmas presents."

"Quite true. But I already had all I wanted. You're all I wanted."

"I know. But it was good to do this, wasn't it?"

"I have no words. And then, dear God...to open my eyes this morning and see him..."

"Sucking my cock?"

"Yes. I never imagined such a...Ray, I...I almost climaxed right there, just from the sight."

"You liked that, huh?" Ray grinned.

"How did you convince him to do that?"

"You must think I have a magic wand hidden around here somewhere, huh?"

"Something like that."

Ray laughed. "Nope. His idea. I woke up and he was doing it. I wasn't going to stop him."

"That's extraordinary."

"Yeah. He was pretty damn good for a guy who never even thought about doing that before."

"I hope we haven't compromised him terribly."

"He look 'terribly compromised' with my cock in his mouth this morning?"

Fraser felt his face heat. "Actually, no."

"Nah, he wasn't. He just figured out he can bat lefty, too. Doesn't mean he's giving up batting righty."

Fraser drew Ray close. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said simply.

Ray gave him the special smile he gave to no one else. "Yeah? For what?"

"For all of it. You knew I wanted...back then, I'd wanted to make love to him, at least once. I knew it was an impossible wish, I tried not to want it, but..."

"But you did."

"I did. Then when he disappeared, it was my one regret about him. I suppose I'd given up on it. But you made it _happen,_ Ray. How did you know?"

Fraser could see his own feelings shining right back at him from Ray's eyes, unutterably beautiful. Ray shrugged. "It was just _there._ I just...look, I knew from the first day. You were so devastated that I wasn't him."

"I suppose. I was also intensely fascinated by you."

Ray's grin could not have gone wider.

"And even that can't possibly cover all that I was feeling, Ray. I was lost, I was found. I was sad, I was...I was inordinately _happy_ at the same time. I was terrified and exhilarated. I can't—it's so hard to express...."

Ray kissed him. "S'okay. I get it. It was like driving a burning car into a lake, next to a guy you were almost sure was a total nutcase, and telling him it's been weird, but it's been a pleasure, 'cause at that moment there was no place in the world you'd rather be."

"Yes. Exactly." Fraser didn't know what he'd done to deserve this man, but every time he caught himself wondering about it, he rededicated himself to making Ray as happy as he possibly could. "God, Ray, I love you. I love you so much."

Ray's long fingers brushed over his temple, his cheekbone, his lips.

Fraser caught Ray's hand there and kissed it.

"I feel like I want to crawl inside you and stay there," Ray said. "You know what I mean? You ever feel like that, like you just wanted to..."

"Merge yourself with your beloved."

"Yeah, that's it."

"I know."

"Yeah?"

"I feel the same."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, they just basked in their togetherness.

Finally Ray gave his head a quick shake. "Hey, guess what?"

"I couldn't possibly."

"I actually got up to go to the can a couple hours ago. You were out cold."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Dief's been out, and back in. And I know something you don't."

"May I presume you'll tell me when you're sufficiently ready?"

Ray mimicked his overly formal phrasing, with hand gestures, but his eyes were twinkling. "Yeah, you may presume. But only because you are you and I am so crazy in love with you that I even love it when you talk Canadian." He pointed at the window. "Chicago got a white Christmas. No more gray slush for an hour or two, at least."

"You mean...?"

"It snowed. It snowed, Ben." He leaned in and kissed Fraser's lips, gently, softly, and then sat up, pushing the covers back eagerly. "Want to go out and play in it with Dief before we have to take off for the Vecchios'?"

Fraser got up and went to the window. He flicked the curtain aside to glance out. A good foot of clean, new snow lay thickly on the sidewalks, the roofs, the railings of the fire escape. It even covered the alleys, where the plows hadn't yet ventured, briefly hiding the dumpsters and the other trappings of city life.

Morning sunlight glanced off the whiteness, bright enough to hurt a little. Such an odd thing, to feel the stab of bright sunlight off a December snow, Fraser thought.

In Inuvik, the dark and the snow would be like a sheltering roof and walls, covering both day and night. Chicago knew nothing of that. In Chicago, the sun came up every day of the year.

Even Christmas Day could be brilliant here.

Fraser looked back at Ray. In one of his rare patient moments, Ray was leaning back on his elbows, smiling incandescently, watching Fraser at the window.

Ray. So aptly named, he had streamed like sunlight into Fraser's heart, dispelling his shadows, illuminating his days, giving warmth, giving life.

It would be rather silly for Fraser to be nostalgic for darkness when he could bask in this light.

"Yes, Ray. I'd like that very much."

Indeed, Fraser had all he wanted, right here.

 

 

 

_fin_

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Due South Seekrit Santa gift exchange, 2006.  
> Much love and thanks to my patient and lightning-fast beta, AuKestrel.


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